Life on the Farm
by Atrocious Flea
Summary: Nami's contemplations about her husband's faulty character and the resulting consequences of a heart that falls too easily in love.


_"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering the neighborhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters." -Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice_  
  
I am not one for books.  
  
Particularly not one that was thought to be frivolous in my own opinion and prejudices. But as the years passed and thoughtfulness settled where anxiety and uncertainty had reigned, my mind looks back to the aging pages of a novel that I would not have contemplated on being cast as a character so long ago. Never would have presumed that the object of desire so sought out by my sex would be none other then a bumbling farmer whose persistence and gentle appeal won each of our warm and cold hearts alike.  
  
His name was Jack. Such a simple name that was given to the people of Forget-Me-Not Valley at his arrival and formal introduction by Takakura. Who would have known that such a distant man would be the cause of bittersweet happiness and despairing pain to the young women of Forget-Me-Not Valley? To this day, Takakura does not recognize the two broken hearts that try to beat as ardently as they had before were all due to his decision to guide his friend's son into the valley. But we never regretted the choices we made or the events that befell us--we never placed either in fault completely for allowing all of us to be briefly happy even after it was taken away by a single victor.   
  
For you see..  
  
Jack conquered us all.  
  
And we in turn, conquered each other to win him.  
  
One might think that such a remarkable man must have been uncommonly amicable or at least stunningly handsome. But he has and will always be neither..completely. Some might object to my opinion and say he is one of the two or even both. But no person knows a man better then his own wife. And as I have said, he is none of these--_completely_.  
  
…Jack is by nature--a caring soul--who would rather hold back his opinions and make other people happy instead of voicing his true thoughts that might offend them. He is honest in his work as a farmer and blindingly sensitive to his relations, but these traits--while blended harmoniously to his farm--are divided when it comes to people. His white lies are given as easily as his innocent smiles that always causes one to form in return by those who like him. No-one ever reflects about a person's character when one is so happily pleased with what one sees at present. No-one ever pauses to think back on how Jack loved so easily, his heart and vanity sufficiently attended to as he pleased and was pleased by, the attention of three women that focused much of their affections to only _one_.  
  
I can not deny that he is affable or decently handsome, but I also can not say that his character and appearance are truly beautiful. And that, despite his intended goodness, there is no purity in it nor in any other creature of the opposite sex that I have known. It is his weakness--his flaw--and my disgust, pain, and morbidity.  
  
Some call it a wife's jealousy and discontent from her husband's continued acquaintances with other young women, but I entreat to be given the recognition that I am beyond such notions. For I am not as grieved about the result of the effect as being sorrowed by the _cause_.  
  
He made love to us through his sympathetic words, his pleasant smile, and his liberal attentions. Causing us to be filled with sensations that had not been there before--a metaphorical virginity untouched until his arrival caused a stirring palpitation in our hearts. But I can not help thinking how it could also have been described candidly as rape carefully veiled. He assaulted and abused our emotions in what I dare not call insincerity--and similar to the physical act--we hoped it all to end soon.  
  
In matrimony.  
  
As a result, I can never help but look back at my memories and connect them to the story on my lap; my eyes drawing away from worn pages to our child resting in perfect adoration within Jack's arms as I scolded them in their delight of cuddling and being cuddled beyond our child's bedtime. It was a minute pass nine and Jack had taken to the paternal habit of spoiling him lovingly rotten while leaving the disciplining to me.  
  
It was a relief to see--that our son only needed to be reminded in his fear of haunting ghosts to extinguish his whelms.  
  
Tucking in our yielding child and running a hand lightly against his vivid hair, I felt my own set of affectionate hands wrap around my waist as Jack rested his chin upon my shoulder and drew me close while he gazed down at our son--his face mildly but contently bewildered that so much time had passed and had resulted in the boy sleeping before us. And of so much time that we have yet to live through and enjoy together as a family.  
  
With a slight tightening of his arms, he told me that he would be going to the Blue Bar for a few hours before going to bed, the corner of his smile felt against my neck before he let go. An indifferent look passed over my face as I muttered casually about what I should do about the house before waving a dismissive hand at him; his expression latent with hurt from my cold gesture. I suppose, after so many years of matrimonial bliss, he had hoped for my guarded nature to soften and with a quick glance at his face, I managed to smile halfheartedly enough for him to be satisfied of our mutual happiness.  
  
After he left, I peered around the room and picked up the book once again before glancing at the tenebrous text and marking my spot to be read at another time. I knew, however, that I would not pick it up again and the novel would once more, collect dust on top of the furniture that I brought from my former home.  
  
I love him.  
  
And his love for me is enough to conquer the times in which my solitude within this quiet house brings these reflections of his marred character--every silent cry of anguish, every thought of my own degradation of self and intellect, and the horror of my satisfaction with what portion of himself he gives to me..  
  
Muffy, Celia, and I..  
  
A woman's desire no matter how hurt or hard will always crave for love.  
  
And a man's vanity never satisfied until he fulfills this task wholeheartedly.  
  
_I am not one for books.  
  
Particularly not one that was thought to be frivolous in my own opinion and prejudices. But as the years passed and thoughtfulness settled where anxiety and uncertainty had reigned, my mind looks back to the aging pages of a novel that I would not have contemplated on being cast as a character so long ago.   
  
Mr. Bingley..  
  
..we are all your Janes.   
_  
Author's Note:: While I decided against emphasizing on some of the other parts in my version of casual Nami contemplation or explaining why I used Mr. Bingley and Jane from the book Pride and Prejudice for those that have not read it..This story was brought on by the betrayal scenes that occur, the neglect many tend to give to their wife, the dispositions in which the bachelorettes become in later chapters, and the fact that many people like to woo all the girls in their Harvest Moon game without once without thinking of the effect it would bring. I might have too much sympathy for game characters but unlike the Harvest Moon games that /I/ have played, none of the girls in AWL are allowed the distraction of falling in love again and marrying another bachelor. And it really is sad that they lived on as old maids. O.o; 


End file.
